


Mithril and Opals: The Desolation of Thorin.  Part 7: Shine And Burn

by Arken_Stone1



Series: Mithril and Opals: The Desolation of Thorin [7]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU-Alternative Universe, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Bella is BAMF, F/M, Lake-town, Never underestimate a hobbit's love for a Dwarf, Rule 63, fem!Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 13:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3770566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arken_Stone1/pseuds/Arken_Stone1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The Lord of Silver Fountains, the King of Carven Stone,<br/>Shall love the Heart of the Mountain, his One, the Hobbit whom he calls his own.<br/>And the Queen shall defend her King, with a fire that will not turn,<br/>And the King will be humbled by her, and his love will shine and burn."</p><p>-Arken_Stone1</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mithril and Opals: The Desolation of Thorin.  Part 7: Shine And Burn

Disclaimer: All the characters appearing in The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings are copyrighted by Warner Brothers and the J.R.R. Tolkien estate. No infringement of these copyrights intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. I write this fan fiction only for love of the The Hobbit and not for profit.

 

"The Lord of Silver Fountains, the King of Carven Stone,  
the King Beneath the Mountain, shall come into his own.  
And the bells shall ring in gladness, at the Mountain King's return,  
But all shall fail in sadness, and the Lake will shine and burn."

-The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug.

 

*******************

 

In the stillness of the small bed they shared, Bella felt the shift of the mattress as her husband tried to move silent in the dark, managing only trip over his boots that he’d hastily removed earlier in the evening. She heard quiet, low rumbling of guttural words which she she recognized as curse word ala Khuzdul. Bella shook her head in amusement at Thorin’s attempts at stealth in the dark.

“You have no latent Hobbit tendencies, Thorin,” Bella chuckled, propping up on one elbow.

“Bella, return to sleep,” his rich voice carried through the darkness. “I shall return shortly.”

“Are you thinking about the others on their way to the Armory?” she asked, lighting a candle on the end table beside the bed, basking them both in the golden glow of the single flame.

“Yes,” Thorin admitted as he sank down onto the mattress, reaching for his boots. “I am their leader and they risk their safety for the quest while we-I”

“-enjoy the pleasures of marriage?” Bella finished for him. She sat upright, pulling the covers beneath her arms. “Feeling a bit of guilt?”

“More than a little,” Thorin nodded. “I must be there, Ghivashel.”

“As we must, Thorin,” she agreed as she scuttled out of bed reaching for her traveling clothes. “You and I are thinking the same thing. It shouldn’t be hard to track them down in the city if they make as much noise as you do in the dark.” 

Thorin gave his wife one of those rare smiles that brightened the room more than the one small candle. Bella understood that this quest was more than chasing after a dream or treasure; it meant restoring a stolen homeland to an exiled people. People looked to Thorin Oakenshield as inspiration, leader and lawgiver and she refused to hold him back from that calling. For the longest time, she had wanted only an adventure of fun and excitement. Now, she wanted a destiny that made a difference in the world. 

Once dressed, Bella showed Thorin where to step on the floorboards so he didn’t make so much noise. He still sounded like an Oliphant in a pottery shop. He nodded as he followed in her steps and they quickly made their way down the steps of Bard’s house. Thorin knew the direction of the armory and the duo made their way in the night through back alleys. More than once, they ducked behind a boat or around a corner as regular patrols of the city guard impeded their progress. 

“If this is what the rest of the company endured,” Bella whispered to Thorin, “they can’t be too far ahead of us.”

“Agreed,” the growling annoyance evident in his answer.

“Can you see anything?” Bella asked.

“Not yet,” Thorin said. 

Not long after dashing down another alley, they saw a group of silhouettes gathered under a stairwell near the Armory. Hearing the footsteps, the tallest of the group turned to face Thorin and Bella with a fishing spear held in his hand. 

“I was wondering when you’d get here,” Dwalin clasped Thorin’s wrist, giving his friend a wink and a butt on the forehead.

Thorin said nothing, but gave him that infamous glare that broodingly demanded that he speak of it no more. Dwalin smirked, signaling to the others that they had company.

Bella watched in silent fascination as Thorin signaled to the company and they lined up against the wall of the armory in formation, making themselves into a living pyramid. Nori pulled away from the group to get a running start then made his way up the staggered Dwarves, using them as a stairwell to reach a second story window then diving through it.

“You next, milady wife,” Thorin nodded to his wife. With a wink and a nod, she took a running start. Lightly, she bounded upon the backs of the Dwarves and made her way through the open window.

Soon, all of them were inside staring at the extensive cache of iron-forged weapons: pick-axes, hammers, mattocks and spears lining the walls of the Armory. Bella attempted lifting a large war axe from the wall and its weight caused it to quickly hit the floor with a dull thud. She watched her companions grab anything that wasn’t nailed down and make their way to the front door.

“Are you well, Kili?” Bella saw the concern for his nephew stark and tangible on Thorin’s face.

“I’m fine, Uncle,” she watched her nephew give a quick nod followed by an almost invisible grimace. 

“Let us take what we need and leave,” Thorin directed the others. She watched Kili’s pile of weapons grow heavier as Thorin placed a few more swords in his arms. Looking at Thorin rather than ahead of him, Bella watched in silent horror as Kili missed a step and went ears over boots down the rickety wooden staircase with an avalanche of heavy iron clanging around him as he fell.

The Company froze in place, wide-eyed and jaws slacked as the clamoring of iron against wood echoed in the Armory. For several seconds, they remained still and Bella heard Thorin mutter, “Mahal preserve us.”

All heard the coming of the City Guard just outside the Armory door.

“Run!” Dori bellowed.

They no more made their way through the door when the Company found themselves very shortly stopped with guardsmen pointing long pikes at their chests and throats. Sheer instinct prompted Bella to wrench a pole-arm from the wall to defend her comrades, but found cool, sharp metal pressing against her jugular.

Thorin glanced at the sight before him: his company at the mercy of Men and their weapons. Again, he found himself caught between the safety of his loved ones and the importance of the quest. Letting out an epitaph, he dropped the spear he had pointed at the guard. 

After being thoroughly searched, the one the men called Braga who appeared to be in charge gave Thorin a cheeky smile, “Now, we’ll see what the Master wants to do with ye.”

Thorin glowered at him while the the guard merely chuckled. As they were marched toward the city square, Bella heard her husband vow, “Never again will I let sentiment get in the way of this quest. It is worth more than the life of one one Dwarf, even my kin.”

Bella’s heard the cold, grim determination in Thorin’s promise and her previous feeling of dread burned like frostbite, scarring her heart of what she had only dreamt. 

With spears at their backs and swords at their throats, the city guard dragged them through the streets until they stood in the city square. Braga went to the tall wooden doors, knocking on them and summoning the master. With all of the ruckus and commotion in the middle of the night, the city’s citizen came into the streets to see what was the cause of all of the commotion.

The Master with jowls flapping and his combed-over bald spot gleaming in torch light strutted through the wooden doors as the city guard cleared way for him. “What is the meaning of this?”

“We caught these Dwarves robbing the armory, Master,” Braga glanced at the Dwarves.

“Thieves in the night, eh?” The Master stared down his nose at the ragtag group standing before him. He snorted, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his robe.

“A filthy bunch of vagabonds not to be trusted, Sire,” a man wheezed behind him.

“Hold your tongue,” Dwalin took a step forward toward the human with the thick uni-brow marring his already sallow feature covered by a greasy mop of black hair. “You do not know whom you address. This is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!”

The Master’s thick auburn brows flew upward and his eyes widen when he heard the name. The grumbling of the crowd quieted to a murmur. As Dwalin motioned to his king, Thorin slowly stepped forward.

“We are the Dwarves of Erebor,” Thorin address the Master. Gasps of astonishment from the crowd replaced their conversation amongst themselves. “We have returned to take back our Mountain.”

The stood there mute and slack-jawed at the mention of the name of legend. Here before him stood the King Under the Mountain. Bella felt a slow grin of satisfaction tug at her lips as she proudly watched her husband, her king, stride forward to address the townsfolk and the Master.

“I recall this town as it was in all its glory,” Thorin’s voice boomed and all eyes locked on him. “Armadas from all parts of Arda brought to this place ships filled with rare spices and fine gems. This was no desolate backwater village, but the center of all commerce in the North.” The townsfolk muttered their agreement

“Those days shall be upon us once more,” he turned and addressed each part of the crowd in turn, his deep baritone resonated with passion and belief. “I would relight the great forges of the Dwarves, sending wealth an prosperity cascading again from Erebor’s halls and upon the people of Lake-Town!”

A unanimous cheer erupted from the townsfolk at Thorin’s words and he turned to the Master who looked quite uncertain as to what to do.

“Fire and suffering,” Bard bellowed, pushing his way through the throng of townsfolk. “You will reduce this town to ashes. Brimstone and bale fire. If you incur that fiend’s wrath, we will burn where we stand.”

“Take heed of this doomsdayer if you so choose,” Thorin pointed to Bard, “but I vow to you this: if we succeed, all will bath in the river of gold flowing from Erebor.”

The crowd broke into a wild cheer at the King’s words. “You will know enough wealth to build Lake-Town ten times over!”

“Why should we believe the word of some wandering tinkerer?” The Master’s aide yelled above the cheering group gathered in the square. “How do we know you are of good character? Who will speak on your behalf?”

A hush fell upon all gathered in the city square and the stillness overwhelmed Bella stamped in foot in the newly-fallen stone, hazel eyes fixed on the greasy weasel that dared assuage her husband. She cleared her throat and raised her hand high in the air, “Who are you calling a wandering tinkerer?” Bella demanded, stomping forward. “I’ll have you know that he was fighting Orcs before you were out of nappies.”

“And who are you?” the Master asked, hiding his snicker beneath his hand while pretending to sneeze.

“I am Bella Baggins-Durin of Bag End. I am his wife and I will vouch for this Dwarf,” she raised her voice as she made her way to the hunchbacked aide until she stood toe to toe with him. She only came a bit past his waist, but she looked up at him with emerald fire in her eyes as she poked him in the chest. “I have journeyed with these Dwarves through great peril and if Thorin Oakenshield gives his word, then he will keep it.”

Thorin slowly turned, his gaze intently fixed upon Bella. His face of stone softened as the fiery devotion of his wife touched his heart and caused his eyes to shine and burn with strong adoration. Astonishment warmed him in ways he never thought possible as he heard the love and loyalty in her voice that reassured him that this quest was right and true. She truly was the heart of the Mountain. He gave a subtle, grateful nod to her; humbled and amazed by her unwavering loyalty ad love. He vowed to drape her in the finest silks and adorn her in the greatest gems once he sat upon Erebor’s throne.

“People of Lake-Town,” Bard yelled above the crowd, “Have you forgotten Dale’s fate and how it flamed and burned while its people who perished in the bale storm? And why did they burn until only ashes remain? It was all for the ruthless gold lust of a Mountain King so maddened by his craving for wealth that he became possessed by his own obsession.”

Bard moved forward toward Thorin and he steeled himself for the man’s forthcoming attack. He looked up at the human, half-expecting Bard to strike him. Instead, Bard’s face was a mixture of anger, desperation and pleading. “You have no right to enter that mountain.”

Thorin met his gaze, his voice so quiet only Bard heard him. “I have the only right.”

Without another thought, Thorin turned his back to Bard, dismissing him and focusing his attention upon the city’s leader. “What say you, Master of Lake-Town? Will you see the prophesy come true and partake of the vast fortune of Erebor?”

All eyes turned the Master, awaiting his answers. Snowflakes fell silently, muffling any noise made by townsfolk. All quiet in the the cold night, quietude enveloping the crowd and the company.

“I say to you,” the Master began slowly as if choosing each word, shaking his finger at Thorin before opening his arms wide. ‘Welcome, King Under the Mountain, I bid you well-met.”

A roaring hail and applause broke from the crowd as they cheered on Thorin and the Company. Thorin, eyes bright with great love, held out his hand to Bella as he stood on the steps of the Master’s quarters in the city square, hand held out to her. Rushing to his side to join Thorin, he he quickly enveloped Bella in a strong embrace, drawing her close to him and bring his lips down to meet hers in awe and adoration. “Oh, Azyungel, how you humble me.”

“Amrâlimê, ” Bella mumbled, tucked tightly into Thorin’s embrace. As she held him, she hoped the raven that she so recently sent would find his mother to find the elixir to abate his gold sickness that she felt coming.

 

“The Lord of Silver Fountains, the King of Carven Stone,  
Shall love the Heart of the Mountain, his One, the Hobbit whom he calls his own.  
And the Queen shall defend her King, with a fire that will not turn,  
And the King will be humbled by her, and his love will shine and burn."

-Arken_Stone1

 

To Be Continued......


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